


holding back from you

by swancharmings



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings
Summary: “Del Posto is the same as it always is: low lights, decadence and elegance, Harvey looking like the cat that ate the canary while she picks at his plate.”
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	holding back from you

**Author's Note:**

> Assume Mitchell and Esther never happened. A little play on the Del Posto dinner date in 5x07. I don’t know if I’m completely happy with this, so I might revisit it later, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.
> 
> (Unbeta’d, so I apologize for any mistakes)

If she’s not careful, she’ll end up doing something she’ll regret.

Del Posto is the same as it always is; low lights, decadence and elegance, Harvey looking like the cat that ate the canary while she picks at his plate.

They both know the drill. Flirting’s on the table. Nothing more, nothing less.

But this...this is  _ fun. _ The kind of fun she used to have with Harvey, in-between fake memos and manipulative dates, before the threat of prison and ill-timed declarations. He’s toeing the line and she’s right there with him, drinking in his company, letting her mind wander to the other time and maybe they needed time away to find their way back to this, to their normal.

Or whatever else they could be.

“Glad we did this, Harvey.” She glances at him through her lashes, playful yet genuine.

“Me too,” he drawls with an easy smile. His voice is lower than she’s ever heard it, and that’s when she knows she’s in real trouble. Because this night may have been about getting their friendship back on track, but it’s quickly becoming more than that.

“We should do this more often.”

There’s a beat. Donna plucks at the stem of her wine glass, purses her lips in consideration.

He’s not ready for a relationship. That, she knows.

But maybe he’s ready for... something else.

And maybe she wants to do something about it.

She’s tired of being the responsible one. If Harvey can make unpredictable moves in their little game, then what’s stopping her?

Mind made up, she leans forward and grants him a view of her breasts, pushed together with the help of the bra she’d picked and that she knows looks fucking amazing tonight.

His eyes dip down before trailing back up to her lips. His forefinger strokes along the bowl of his glass in a tantalizing rhythm while he stares at her, trying to call her bluff.

She doesn’t back down. Instead she wears a loose-lipped smile, one bold, bare foot slipping from its heel to tease underneath his pant leg.

Harvey calls for the check, voice dropping two more octaves and heat pools in her belly.

It’s just one night, she thinks as he hails a cab. They stumble into the back and suddenly his nails are raking up her bare thigh while her own dig into his shoulder blades.

Just one night. She needs another warm body, not her pillow or her hand.

She misses being close to him. It’s normal. It’s only one night.

The second she’s hovering over him on his bed, she knows —

— she’s in big fucking trouble.

He’s staring at her like she’s  _ everything. _

He told her they had everything.

Was he right?

Well, she certainly didn’t have  _ this _ . Donna hisses as she sinks down on his hard member. Takes every inch of him. Braces her palms on his abdomen and she grinds her clit over his pubic bone, again and again, taking taking taking.

It’s about time she started taking.

And he’s giving — slams his hips into hers, kneads her breasts, pulls out to grind his shaft through her hot lips before sheathing himself back inside.

Donna comes and it’s not magical, nothing like that first time; this is hunger and sadness and raw need. It’s a bitter aftertaste, a fantasy, all that he can give.

It’s not enough.

She’s about to yank away and pretend this never happened when suddenly he’s turning her around, settling her back against his chest as his still-hard cock slips inside from this new angle.

And fuck, it’s glorious.

It’s the first time either of them have said anything. But she can’t hold it in.

“Oh fuck, Harvey,” she pants as he shoves further inside her, hitting her upper wall  _ right there _ and dancing his fingers over her clit, brushing over the bud with no real pressure and it’s driving her insane.

He slips two fingers in alongside his thick cock and she nearly cries.  _ Does _ cry, loud and sharp followed by several choked whimpers when he drags them up to play with her nipple, the pads sticky with her juices.

Then she feels something wet press behind her ear; his tongue traces the soft skin, and he bites at her neck, sucks on the tendon of her shoulder, and she tenses because he’s slowed way down, his thrusts gentle and intimate while he wraps his arms around her stomach and cuddles her to his chest and this is not what she wanted. This can’t happen.

She can’t come back from this again.

“Stop,” she whispers, twisting out of his grip to sit up in his lap and starts fucking him with vigor. Tears sting and she blinks them away, focuses on the play of her hips and the cock filling her up and not on the man it belongs to.

It’s easier to face away from him. It lets her pretend.

She tries and tries and tries to find release but she can’t, refuses to turn around and let him help her. It’s confusing and wrong and it makes her want to scream.

One guttural sound and Harvey’s emptying inside her, gripping her hips to steady himself and she lets him let go, works him through his orgasm. Once he’s done she lifts off, semen dripping on his thighs and his sheets and she doesn’t bother cleaning up, reaches for her dress on the floor before he can reach for her.

“Donna.”

Her name stops her in her tracks. He sounds so hurt, so lost, and her eyes close in self-hatred.

She turns, finds brown eyes burning with something so powerful it knocks the wind out of her.

“I want everything.”

“Everything,” she repeats, breathless.

He nods.

A silent conversation. Words never said, new meanings unfolding, flooding the dam and breaking all boundaries.

“Come to bed.”

She stills. “Harvey...”

“I won’t,” he says quietly. “Change my mind. I won’t.”

“How do you know?” her throat constricts around the words.

“Because you showed me what it was like without you. And I’m not doing that again.”

The tears fall. She sits on the edge of the bed and traces his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, low and broken. “For tonight.”

“I’m not.”

“I didn’t love you.” Her voice breaks.

“Who says you didn’t?” He tucks her hair away from her chin.

She should give him more credit; she might know him better than he knows himself, but he certainly knows her inside and out, sees past her guarded heart and that seemingly unshakeable confidence, to the very core of her that viciously protects herself from uncertainty, loss and heartbreak.

Donna kisses him for the first time that night and in a very long ten years.

“Then let me show you  _ just how much _ I love you.”


End file.
